Subconsciously yours

Julie’s dream about Mario Batali inspired me to tell a few tales from my own subconscious.

They are strange. Not the cute stuff of weeks past. They frequently involve violence or sex, not both. Which is perhaps a small step in the right direction.  They are realistic enough that they raise my heart rate. I wake up completely freaked out and wide awake at 2 a.m. This, and what appears to be a touch of food poisoning from yesterday, conspired to keep me up at all hours of the night last night.

If you’ve been keeping up with the international news recently, you might have noticed a rise in attacks against Israel and anti-Zionist sentiment over the last week or two. It would seem that Israel might reenter Gaza. While I’m not going to go all political and lose readers (all four of you that are still here reading since the infertility blog took a hit and became a pregnancy blog), suffice it to say that this would be the first large-scale military operation since we arrived here last summer. It has made many people in Gaza hate us even more than they did. And the hatred has been felt in the West Bank too, which is a helluva lot closer to us than Gaza. The West Bank is just up the street.

I will say that I feel very safe here – safer than I was in the U.S. for a multitude of reasons I’m not going to get into – and I absolutely do not regret moving to Israel with any fiber of my being (save the fiber that really misses Target). But pregnancy comes with a certain vulnerability and it’s manifesting itself in my dreams. Things in real life take on a new meaning in the subconscious.

Yesterday, my morning bus to Jerusalem got pulled over, by Israel Police, on its journey through the West Bank. Right before we made our way to the lovely little town of Givat Ze’ev, the police boarded and arrested four Arab men who got on right after we left the Israeli side through the border checkpoint. No explanations given – continue as usual. And so I went to work. This is the second time since I became pregnant that my bus has been boarded – the other one was headed for Tel Aviv. Lest you really panic, it was probably nothing. Israeli security is always exceptionally cautious and that’s probably all it was. But it still gets the mind a thinking.

On more than one night, I’ve woken up in a cold sweat, short of breath, because I’ve just dreamed that my husband got attacked, or that I got shot by militants or that I got taken hostage (which is really a stretch because, you see, they don’t tend to keep people alive long enough to take hostages – unless you’re a soldier). It happened again last night and I always have a tough time falling back to sleep afterward.

Some things are always the same in these dreams: I am always alone, I am always pregnant and I am desperately trying to protect the baby. Which resembles many dreams I’ve heard of from American friends, just with a “I live in the Middle East” twist.

In many ways, these dreams are less disturbing than the crazy sex dreams. In the sex dreams, the sex is always ridiculously fabulous (thanks pregnancy hormones) but its when I wake up and put two and two together about whom I was with that I completely freak out. Thus far, I’ve been getting it on with relatives, relatives of friends, coworkers, athletes, heads of state (both dead and alive – ehh), all manner of people I see on a regular basis and the hubby (yay hubby! good for you!). I really get around. And it usually grosses me out.

And again, some themes pervade each encounter: I wear fabulous lingerie, I am svelte like you wouldn’t believe, I am not pregnant and, man, am I ever an animal. It would be fair to say that these things bear absolutely no resemblance to my real life.

Even if I wasn’t married, I can conclusively tell you I would not sleep with the vast majority of these people. Which leads to the “oh, why was I knocking the boots with so-and-so?” questions. And the awkwardness when you see them again in real life. And, unlike the terrorist dreams, you can’t really console yourself by telling the hubby. For these jobbies, you suffer on your own.

I almost miss the ones where I was just having individually wrapped kittens.

For both sets of dreams, I only have them at night. During the day, I’m fine and nap without event.

Maybe next time I’ll tell you about the hallucinations from the Phenergan! About the dinosaurs in the bathroom!

But for now, it’s light out and Miss Nocturnal is going back to bed.


2 responses to “Subconsciously yours

  1. I love this post. At least you’re getting a little action in your sleep, even if the rest of it is tempered with Israeli politics. I used to have the worst gas mask nightmares – some of the situation in Israel is too surreal to understand when you’re awake (especially how close everything is).

  2. Certainly a worthwhile post. I also had serious juicy dreams when I was pregnant. It’s a hormone thing. Most of mine were with unknowns, so I tried to assure myself that it was hubby, and I just missed seeing his face…

    As long as you’re not dreaming about my ex-roomie, all’s well.

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